


The Dream Machine™

by prettyface_lonelyheart



Series: Only One [6]
Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyface_lonelyheart/pseuds/prettyface_lonelyheart
Summary: A change in reality is one technological advancement away.





	The Dream Machine™

“Stand up,” Professor Landa ordered sternly.

“Sir, I don’t u—“ Aria stammered, her eyes darting from left to right.

As predicted, nobody had her back. They only looked at her like the freak show she was. There was no sympathy. Their looks were nothing but pure “fuck, do I feel sorry for _you_.”

She was sorry, too. She was sorry for living. Sorry for trying her best, but never meeting the expectations of others that was getting narrower and narrower by the second.

 “Stand!” he repeated.

Aria jolted up from her seat and gulped, holding back the persistent nausea waiting at her throat. If she let _that_ win, this was going to get a whole lot worse. Worse treatment from the students around her. Worse for the white blouse that was tucked into her gray, pleated skirt (she couldn’t afford the extra treatments at the Laundromat). Most of all: worse for her pride and dignity. What little reputation she built for herself being one of very few to make it on a scholarship and not by daddy’s money or connections.

“Class,” a devilish smirk cracked across his face like rocks giving way to molten lava. “ _This_ abomination is the result of _hard work_ to get here!”

Already, her peers were stifling their giggles and chortles.

She closed her eyes and inhaled, then clenched her jaw.

Professor Landa paced the lecture hall. He was reveling in the subsiding pain he felt emanating from Aria.

 _That asshole_ , she hissed in her mind.

“But! Despite this... she’s _still_... not good enough,” he scoffed.

The students no longer made any effort to contain their laughter.

“No looks, no brains, no class...” Landa continued.

She’d been keeping her focus on the chalkboard that she hadn’t noticed he was already mere inches from her.

With his lips by her ear, he shot the final blow in the form of a whisper loud enough for the class to hear.

“ _No potential_.”

The students hollered, some banging their fists on the desktops.

One of them—some beefy athlete with a shaved head and tobacco on his breath—bellowed an “OH!” into Aria’s other ear.

Landa never disciplined them.

Aria heard of some professors who took “undesirable” students to the side before they left the room, taunting them when they were alone. Others hushed the class, wanting the honor of humiliating the misfits for themselves, but adding more to the damage by making it public. But Landa? He figured, “Why not let everyone join in on the fun?”

What was more fun than causing distress to someone who didn’t fit the Perfect Mold? Driving someone who wasn’t skinny, rich, white and preppy to destruction and suicide was like any other sport in this world. Those at the top always won.

She knew she was giving them what they wanted, but she couldn’t help it. She bolted out of the room and down the hall, curling up by the staircase and letting her sobs pour from her lungs.

The only reason she couldn’t properly finish her assignment was because her Stability Meter had dipped, causing her to have a breakdown. As much as she tried bringing it back up, it was futile, considering she had to do it all on her own. She didn’t know _how_ to do it alone and no one ever helped.

Rosie was simply too busy caring for the children and Aria didn’t want to put more on her plate than she already has.

No Crisis Management Officer ever took her in. Then again, she rarely had positive experiences with them. They simply threw her into the back of an Attitude Reassessment Conduit to a center where she underwent grueling experiments, away from home.

Being where she is right now, seated on the lower step of the Holloway staircase, she knew she was going to have to face them again. She didn’t think she could go too soon. But if she waited so long as a single day, she would automatically be branded a coward.

 _Deep breaths_ , she told herself as she exhaled and wiped her tears with the back of her wrist.

Just then, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

Aria looked up from her black Mary Jane-style shoes. Staring back at her was a blonde girl with concerned eyes.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked.

For a second, Aria was taken aback. There was no hint of sarcasm or scorn in this girl’s voice.

“Y-Yeah,” Aria sniffed and wiped another tear that made its way down her reddened, tan cheek.

“You sure?” the girl asked, frowning a bit and making her final step onto the white tile surrounding the stairs.

 She sat with Aria, but kept a good amount of distance, setting her red textbook on her lap.

Aria shook her head and looked away. “No.”

The girl offered to escort her to a Crisis Management Officer, but Aria refused. Not them again.

“Well... I hope you feel better, okay?” the girl gave her a gentle smile before standing up and making her way down the opposite direction Aria came from.

Aria never did see that girl again. 

* * *

_Is your life less than pristine?_

_Try the one and only Dream Machine™!_

Aria passed by the kitchen and greeted Rosie, who was chopping vegetables on the kitchen island. Once in the den, Aria sat on the couch and turned the TV on for some background noise.

Her foster siblings were still in school so Aria had time for herself before the house got chaotic again. She used this moment to work on half her paper. In the middle of a sentence, she glanced at her backpack. It was propped up with the flap draped over the edge of the table like an open mouth. Inside was a paper bag that had a box inside.

She shook her head and retrained her focus back to her laptop.

That’ll be for later, she reminded herself.

Once she had a quarter of the paper left to do, she saved her work and brought the screen down over the keyboard. The sound from the TV was reworking its way back to her, as she’d blocked out most of it while typing. A reality show was on: _Riches to Rags_.

Aria rolled her eyes.

“Spare me,” she muttered under her breath as she pried the paper bag from between her books.

The host introduced the princes hailing from different countries. Aria hated admitting that one or two caught her eye. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she would ever be on the show because 

  1. She was far too hideous,
  2. She hated reality TV and
  3. Who would want to be with her anyway?



With the narration tuned out again, Aria pulled the box from its paper confines. She gave it a few test lifts. It was light. She hoped she hadn’t been ripped off. God only knew whether or not there was an actual Dream Machine™ in there or a bunch of packing peanuts.

To her surprise, there it sat—the sleep mask-like prototype that was going to give her what she always desired.

She wasn’t sure how it was going to happen, but she had to find out. 

* * *

 **_Important:_ ** _Dreams guaranteed. Time and methods vary._

Aria woke up on the couch where she had been, as her eyes adjusted to the light seeping through the windows, she noticed she no longer had the device over her eyes.

One of the kids must have stolen it is what she figured. They always were taking her belongings and going through her inventory of books, journals and the like.

She didn’t think she’d been asleep for long, but she found it strange nonetheless that she didn’t smell anything cooking. Surely, Rosie would have been done doing the meal prep and started cooking supper by now. There wasn’t even any sound coming from anywhere around the house, not even the kitchen.

“Rosie?” Aria called, suspicious of the change.

No answer.

Maybe she had been sleeping for a long time. The likely explanation is that she slept way more than she normally would. Therefore, Rosie put some food aside and she was doing something with the children outside. But she didn’t even hear anything outside.

Her phone buzzed. 

She picked it up and saw a new message from a certain Nikolas Keller, someone she definitely hasn’t met before....

> **Nikolas:** _Aria? I have something important to tell you._
> 
> **Aria:** _What? Who is this?_
> 
> **Nikolas:** _Very funny. It’s Nikolas from school._
> 
> **Aria:** _Wait, who? I don’t know you._
> 
> **Nikolas:** _Cute haha._ _Just to humor you, I suppose..._ _We met at Kingsfield. We bumped into each other._ _You were in Poetry. I was in Film in American Culture. Y_ _ou were (and still are) the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen._

There was no way a guy would ever be telling _her_ this. Did the Dream Machine™ actually work?

Maybe it’s someone setting her up, but that didn’t explain a lot of things. How did she end up with this guy’s number? Was he associated with her harassers? If she knew, she wouldn’t have saved his number, much less given it away to him. If they somehow found it from somewhere, it wouldn’t be a saved contact.

This ‘Nikolas’ takes Film in American Culture. She doesn’t know any film majors.

> **Aria:** So... what’s this important thing?
> 
> **Nikolas:** I don’t want to tell you this way. Meet with me?
> 
> **Aria:** Where?
> 
> **Nikolas:** The Kingsfield Garden. Are you still here?
> 
> **Aria:** No, I went home already. Is it important?
> 
> **Nikolas:** Yes, I can’t wait. I know you don’t live here, but please come?

Seems she does know him. Either that, or he’s a stalker. 

This was the Dream World™, though. She certainly never dreamt of actually dying, so what’s the worst thing that could possibly come out of this?

She agreed, fixed her clothes and hair in the mirror by the door before getting into her car and making the 20-minute trip to Kingsfield.

* * *

“Aria?” Rosie called softly. “Wake up. Dinner’s ready.”

With no response, save for a murmur, Rosie nodded her head once. “I’ll give it a few minutes.”

Along with her faded footsteps, Aria heard the kids. Renée giggled, Joey loudly declared something wasn’t fair. Tiny soles ran around the entire first floor, with some pitter-patters on the floor above the couch. George screamed and something thudded onto the hard floor of the kitchen. Danielle was crying and wailing. 

Aria wanted to do the same.

* * *

She entered the Kingsfield Garden, going down the limestone path, passing rose bushes on either side of her. The circular center came into view, where the fountain was. The stone lotus in the middle sprouted clear waters pouring over blue pools surrounding the petals.

Behind the big lotus, she spotted a figure. 

The closer she got, the more details she could make out. He was around 6 feet tall with a curly blond fringe, which sat on top of the shaved sides and back of his head. He still had the school uniform on: dark slacks, white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearm and black dress shoes. The only thing he didn’t have on was the navy blue blazer.

“Nikolas?” Aria called out as she slowly approached him.

He turned around and his face instantly brightened. His wide lips gave way to a set of perfect, white teeth.

“Aria!” he perked, unfolding his hands and holding them out towards her.

Once she’d gone closer, within arms-length away, he took her hands and they both stepped towards each other. He kissed her cheek and pulled back so they were face-to-face again.

She filled in more physical details about him she hadn’t gotten initially: his eyes reminded her of incoming rain, flurries of gray over a faint blue backdrop. He had a dimple on his left cheek when the edge of his lip so much as tugged upwards into a half-smile. Just some inches under the curve of his bottom lip was a cleft chin. He was clean-shaven and smelled subtly of bergamot and white amber.

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked, shyly.

His smile faltered. She could tell he was trying to maintain it, despite the nerves inside him flying around like corn kernels being popped under pressure and heat.

“There’s something about me you should know,” he told her.

She hadn’t picked up on it before when he said her name, but he had a foreign accent. After some silence, he continued.

“My name isn’t really Nikolas Keller,” he confessed.

Just then, Aria felt they weren’t alone. There was rustling in the bushes behind her. It could’ve been a squirrel. She looked confused now, not only because this man wasn’t who he said he was, but because she spotted a camera over his shoulder, aimed at her face from a bush that was several feet away. 

“I’m Prince Hugo of Cresilen... in Germany,” he said. “Have you heard of the show—?”

“ _Riches to Rags_?” they finished the sentence in unison.

* * *

 It didn’t even make sense. Kingsfield is a prestigious college. Why here?

She found out that, while he did attend classes here, he also worked as a waiter at a local pizza place near campus. There was the “rags” part, it seemed.

“I’ve always wanted to make movies, so I wanted to learn about it while I was ‘undercover’,” Hugo explained. “They didn’t have any film classes at the other schools nearby, so I came here.”

They were now seated on the edge of the fountain. Aria couldn’t believe it. She _felt_ the cold marble under her skirted bottom. She _heard_ the streams of water emptying endlessly into the open basin. She _smelled_ his cologne.

None of it could be traced to the world she actually lived in. 

“But... why me?” Aria wondered. “You could’ve chosen any other girl here. One more like yourself.”

He smiled that charming smile again and put his hand on top of hers on the marble surface. Without taking his eyes off her face, he revealed, “There was no one else here. I knew it was going to be you from the time we collided. I asked about you to some people in your class, but they didn’t know anything. It gave me a challenge.”

She wasn’t shocked. She knew she wasn’t as involved with things around school as much as she’d like. There was simply nothing she did had any interest in. The only part that _was_ new to her was the fact that someone was interested in her at all.

“What did your family say? Were they okay with you coming here?” she asked, curling one leg under her.

“They didn’t like it. They wanted me to stay home and go to a private school in Germany, but I wanted to see the world first,” he shrugged. “They agreed to let me, as long as I go back.”

* * *

“Did you take your medicine?” Rosie asked, not looking away from the sweater she was knitting.

“I did,” Aria said.

“Really? I saw you still had some pills left.” 

“Oh... sometimes I skip a day.”

Rosie gave her usual reminder about not missing too many doses.

* * *

Aria walked onto the stage when her name was read.

Her heels clicked over the polished, wood floor as she made her way to the headmaster, Margaret Landa.

She confidently strutted towards the mother of the man who once made her life Hell. She’s never seen Margaret much, save for her face on flyers advertising her retirement party. She was practically ancient. But regardless, she still commanded respect. Her lips were a tight line, closed by fleshy frown lines.

Aria took the diploma case from Margaret, the leather sleeve bumping against the graduate’s diamond ring. They shook hands. Though Margaret met eyes with her with a stone-cold stare at first, Aria could see a hint of a smile and nod coming from the older woman. She wasn’t quite sure if this was because Margaret was genuinely proud of her or there was one less ‘reject’ in her school. Either way, Aria was leaving and she never had to deal with anyone at Kingsfield ever again.

To relish in her own personal victory, she turned her attention to the audience. She saw Professor Landa sitting in one of the first rows. His face was blank and unmoving at Aria.

That was all she needed to know she’d shown the world what she was capable of. She wasn’t worried about tripping and making a fool of herself. Training to be a princess helped her develop the poise and grace she felt she never had.

* * *

“It’s this one, right?” Aria pointed at two double doors.

“That’s the one,” Hugo smiled and unlooped his arm from hers to get the key out from his pocket.

He unlocked and parted the doors, displaying the luxurious suite that awaited the newlyweds.

“It’s gorgeous!” Aria looked around at the big, four-poster bed and two stain-glass doors framed with a silk curtain on the wall parallel to where they stood at the entrance.

To the right was a bathroom with the door open. She could see a big bathtub shaped like a heart and shower adjacent to it that was so spacious it included a bench opposite the showerhead.

Everything was white with red accents: an all-white bed with red velvet sheets on top, white tiles in the bathroom with the bathtub being the same dark red. The his-and-her towels were white with red lining and cursive lettering. Everything in the main room was on a pure white carpet.

Suddenly, she felt herself floating. Hugo had swept her off her feet, literally.

“I’m not letting my princess walk a single step,” he kissed her cheek. “You had a long day." 

Aria’s face flushed where she’d gotten kissed. Hugo carried her to one of the cushioned chairs set up by a low table, where there was a cake stand of chocolates, and various drinks such as wine, champagne and sparkling cider.

While she took a chocolate and popped it in her mouth, she watched Hugo break the foil off the cider and pour a glass for her.

“Thank you,” she held the glass up as a toast to him before taking a sip.

The apple-flavored beverage washed away the rich confectionary’s creamy center. She set the glass down and was about to stand up.

“Oh! I need to take my medicine before I forget!”

Hugo put his hand out, signaling her to sit down again. “Let me get it for you. Where did you put it?”

“The maroon bag that looks like a small suitcase,” Aria pointed to their luggage stacked by the door. “Set it on its back and it should be on the left hand side." 

He retrieved the orange bottle of pills, handing it to her and sitting in the seat closest to her. Again, she thanked him and expertly placed it over her tongue, avoiding any smears of her lipstick on her fingers. 

“You’ll make a great princess. You’re strong, sweet, caring... I believe in you,” Hugo put his hand over hers on the chair armrest.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for my Contemporary Lit class. It was inspired by _Anagrams_ by Lorrie Moore and _In Persuasion Nation_ by George Saunders. 
> 
> For those unfamiliar with these books, basically what I was going for is a characteristic in _Anagrams_ in which the chapters are broken up into small segments and shift perspectives. Moore utilizes the concept of an anagram by making the stories rearrangeable. The addition of two supposedly imaginary characters distorts what events actually occurred and what is made up. (I say "supposedly" because some may think they are imaginary, while others think otherwise.)
> 
> The other book, is a collection of short stories that satirize modern society and behaviors, such as our attitudes towards poverty, wealth and the treatment of other living things. The stories I used for reference involve a device for infants to act enhance speaking ability, an old man and his grandson in a city where technology uses their nostalgia and desires to sell them something, a couple battling deciding whether or not to give up their fame and luxurious comforts for a more simple life, and a television show that quickly crosses into the strange and inhumane. One of the "stars" of the show does not see the problem in hoarding food from those in third world countries. She argues continuously with her husband, who attempts to reopen her compassionate side and convince her to give some food and shelter to the poor.
> 
> On a final note, I was also taking a class during the semester called Gender and Popular Culture. One of the things we talked about was reality shows and the effect they have on viewers and the ideals society establishes through them. That inspired me to make the fake show here, _Riches to Rags_ , which is based on the short-lived reality show, _Secret Princes_. On the show, princes and other royal figures live in the U.S. as the average, everyday person. With different names, they took up jobs as car cleaners or dog groomers and would try to find a romantic partner along the way who would "like them for them" and not for their status or wealth.


End file.
